


Sleep

by persephone_il (the_ragnarok)



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-03-02
Updated: 2002-03-02
Packaged: 2017-10-16 01:42:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/167063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_ragnarok/pseuds/persephone_il
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>My first Sentinel story ever. Oh, <i>God</i>.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> My first Sentinel story ever. Oh, _God_.

The begining. It's a good place to start from. If I only knew where it was.

It's not that there weren't any starts. There were just so many of the damned things. Some of it started when Jim's hellicopter crashed in Peru. Some of it started when I was twelve and read Burton for the first time. Some of it probably started in the prehistorical soup of creation. Which of those do I begin with?

I guess one start was right after Lash.

Right after Jim rescued me, it was as if nothing happened; we joked about it, and if some thoughts made me shiver, I didn't say anything and Jim kindly pretended not to notice. Business as usual.

Until I woke up screaming, that is.

I don't even remember the nightmares. Just the teribble helplessness, the sensation of nowhere to hide. As soon as I woke up it was gone, and I took comfort in the warm body whose strong arms shook me awake.

For three nights, Jim came down to wake me up from the nightmares, then stayed in my bed until dawn. I clung to him, knowing I shouldn't but too scared to care. In the cold light before dawn, he seemed like the most solid thing, the only solid thing in the world.

When the forth night came, he went to bed early. I stayed in the living room for as long as I could before had to go to sleep or collapse of exhaustion, then climbed up the stairs.

I stood in front of Jim's bed for a moment, not knowing how to ask him for what I wanted, but he turned to face me and smiled. He lifted the covers. "Get in before all the heat runs out, Chief."

Grateful, I crawled in beside him. Jim put his arms around me and I snuggled closer. When the next nightmare came, it was drowned soon in the sense of security I felt. Jim came and got me. Jim wouldn't let me down.

* * *

I started sleeping with him on a pretty regular basis, even after the nightmares stopped. Not as frequently, though. Nine nights out of ten, we'd each go to our respective beds. My schedule was pretty crazy - always was - sleep squeezed in whenever I had nothing better to do. It would've been silly to sleep in his bed when he wasn't there, after all.

But the tenth night, we'd be watching T.V., or reading in the livingroom, or just being around each other. Jim would rise from the couch and ask, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, "You coming to bed, Chief?"

And I came to him. Every time.

Well, I guess it _was_ the most natural thing in the world. It felt like it, for the very least. I've always been a cuddler, and I'm a great believer in the importance of physical contact. I've always loved having a warm body in my bed, even without sex in the equation, and sleeping with someone I trusted - hell, loved - as much as Jim was wonderful.

The thing I had a hard time understanding was why he let me do it. I mean, I'm not completely oblivious. Having another guy in your bed is _not_ common behaviour for your avarage macho straight man. Alright, Jim's a toucher, I'll grant you that, but he isn't exactly the hallmark type thought-you-needed-a-hug person. But still, he seemed to like it well enough.

Things kinda escalated after the whole fountain thing. After we returned from Siera Verde, he wouldn't so much as climb up the stairs without me. And even then, he still squirmed so much it was beggining to annoy me.

"What is it, man?" I whispered.

"Nothing. Go to sleep."

"C'mon, Jim. You're not gonna sleep until you get whatever it is off your chest, and I can't sleep with you moving around like this."

"Sorry. I'll try to keep still."

I sighed with frustration. "Jim, for once in your life will you quit the strong-and-silent routine and just tell me what's wrong?"

He was quiet, and I was just considering asking him again when he said, "It's the boxers."

I groaned inwardly. "God, you didn't buy polyesther again, did you? I told you--"

"God, Sandburg, do you think I'm stupid?" He snarled. "They're cotton. I just want them off, alright?"

It took me a while to get a decent comment out. "Why?"

"I don't know, alright? I just feel-- wrong. Like I have to be certain every inch of your skin is still there. I'm sure you're just dying to get naked with me here, but I'd appriciate it if you'll let me sleep." He took a deep breath. "Look, Chief, I know this is weird. I don't understand it myself. If I'm making you uncomfortable, you don't have to stay here--"

"No, it's alright," I assured him hastily. I did _not_ want to wake up from a drowning nightmare alone, thank you very much. I took a second to think about the whole thing again. "You know, it could be some Sentinel thing."

"God, here he goes again," Jim said to no one in particular.

"Shut up." I elbowed him in the ribs. "Actually, it makes sense. You want as much sensory data to assure my well being with as possible."

"I'd think that kind of stuff would be too much information, even for a Sentinel."

"Hey, that's some of the most sensitive skin on your body. If you're going to use touch to check up on me, it'll probably come out as useful information." I was starting to get carried away with theory. "Besides, you need to make sure that, uh, delicate areas of me are unharmed. I don't think Sentinels and their Guides originally wore this much clothing--"

"Less than boxer shorts?" Jim interrupted me.

"Well, if I were a Sentinel in some jungle, I'd sleep naked. No worries about heat, and you get more sensory input." I started scrambling for my shorts.

"Whoa. What do you think you're doing?"

"Letting us both get some sleep. You have to do what your body tells you."

"Sandburg, I'm not about to sleep naked with another man. Just get those things back on, will you?"

"You know, Jim, not all nudity is sexual. This is just some cultural thing. I mean, there were times when a woman without a hat was considered naked, for chrissakes. This is about--"

Jim let out a long suffering sigh. "If I'll take the damn things off, will you keep yours on?"

"Sure thing, man. Whatever you're comfortable with." I shimmied back into my shorts.

It was a bit of a wasted effort, actually, because they came back off about fourty - five minutes later, when Jim _still_ couldn't sleep. But after I was done with coaxing, arguing and just plain threatening him when I couldn't stand it anymore, we fell asleep almost immidiately.

* * *

The nudity thing became regular. The first few nights after that were still a bit tentative, and for as long as a week Jim refused to get them off before bed, operating with some vague hope that whatever the fuck was wrong with his instincts would just go away. But we ended up naked, which was actually quite nice once I got over the awkwardness of the whole thing. Warmth _everywhere_ , and I wasn't lying when I talked about the benefits of more sensitive skin.

It was still weird to wake up with his hand cupping my dick, but I let it go. He didn't seem to even notice it, and I wasn't going to call him up on it - I wasn't about to get myself thrown out of his bed, alright? I didn't pull his attention to the fact that he woke up hard more often than not. Hey, it wasn't as if having someone touch my dick left me all that calm and unaffected. If he could handle it, so could I.

So it was back to routine - nine nights in my own bed, tenth night naked beside Jim. There are worse arrangements. It was all going great until the dissertation fiasco.

The first few days, Jim kept a careful distance from me, as if he were afraid I'll shatter if he came too close. I understood it - there were some things said that just couldn't be *un*said, you know? He didn't seem to be self destructing or doing anything on a similar level of stupidity, so I let him get away with it.

Then, about ten days after the whole thing, at midnight, he matirialized beside my bed. I returned the favour he did me a while back and held up the covers for him before he could even ask. He seemed grateful as he climbed in beside me, naked, and I started taking my own boxers off without a word.

For a minute I was scared, so scared. Things had been so wrong; how could they ever be right again? I gave Jim what I could, but was it enough? Something curled in my stomach, and my hands shook with the effort of not reaching into the only possible solidity in my world. It was my bed, my room, but only because he gave them to me. Naked, I was completely within his mercy. That was good, right; Jim would know what to do.

But when I touched his skin, it was chilly from the air of the night, and he was shaking as well. I clutched at him blindly, nearly not noticing when his toungue carressed my neck. As something hot, unmistakably hard, pressed against my thigh.

But I did notice, and I froze. What was he doing? He was straight, I knew he was straight, who was he thinking I was? Why--

He didn't seem to notice my lack of reaction. He kept licking me - tasting me - more sensory data, I guess - and touching me everywhere, everywhere, and the frozen feeling in my stomach solidified even as I got more and more aroused - oh God, if he didn't know what he was doing, how could I possibly know?

Trying to calm myself down, I petted his hair. This was Jim. I was safe with Jim. Jim was my Sentinel, my Blessed Protector, could never hurt me, _would_ never hurt me--

With a last, hurrying frenzy, he came all over me. Then a strong, capable hand grabbed me _there_ and rubbed me once, twice, three times, until everything became blurry and I felt a burning in my groin that nearly melted the block of ice in my chest, and with a desperate sob I came.

I pressed into his chest and tried to keep from whimpering. I didn't know who I was, where I was, _why_ I was. Something was wrong with Jim, horribly, utterly wrong if he came to me looking for _that_. I went for guys every now and then, when girls were just too soft to stand, but I knew damned well that he was happily hetero. What was going on with him?

There's a Jewish proverb saying "If the oaks have caught fire, what will the mosses do?". They don't get much more oak-like than Jim Ellison, and while I wasn't exactly thrilled with the moss analogy, it was clear that that was my place in that particular parable. If Jim, strong, solid, dependable Jim was going through some kind of crisis, what the hell was I supposed to do?

His hand was in my hair, stroking me, relaxing me. I could handle this. Whatever was wrong, I could fix it. I turned my face up into Jim's face, shielding myself for the confusion - fear, even - I might see there.

I nearly gasped in surprise when all I saw was complete, smug contentment. "Nice, huh?" He whispered.

"Nice," I said stupidly.

"Nice," he repeated with satisfaction and turned to nuzzle at my neck. "It'll be better next time, Chief," he said into my skin, appearantly having noticed the confusion I was dealing with and misunderstanding the cause.

"Oh," I said for lack of better answer.

Alright. This, whatever it was, was _weird_. And I had every intention of finding out just what the fuck was going on.

* * *

I didn't want to ask Jim, though. As things were, he thought that I enjoyed what we just went through, and physically speaking, I did; if I corrected his notions, he'll be guilt tripping from here to kingdom come. He had too much guilt linked with me already, over what happened with Alex, over my lost career as an anthropologist. I did not need halfway-consentual sex as another item on the list. I wasn't some poor straight abused virgin. It wasn't some big issue. I was just scared because he forgot to ask first. Had he asked, I probably would've said yes. Same goes for his assumption that we'll be doing this on a regular basis.

And we did. I pretty much stopped sleeping in my own room after that; whenever I seemed to want to be away from him, he'd frown a bit. It wasn't anymore than he had before the dissertation mess, when I said I didn't want to come on a stakeout with him or stuff like that. I knew it was just because he liked me there, and that was a good sign. He needed me; he might as well enjoy it.

But now, I couldn't afford to make him worry. If he started suspecting, he'll see how uncomfortable I was growing with the sleeping arrangements and then I'll probably never see him again.

That was the best way to describe it; uncomfortable. Most of the time, it was barely noticeable. It wasn't there at all when we were just cuddled together. During sex, I mostly managed to drown it with what I was sensing. He was damned sexy, and those senses of his came in pretty useful when it came to finding my hot spots.

Except for the time when he wanted me to fuck him. We've pretty much tried all the other obvious ideas, and I liked it when he did me, so that was the next place to go, right?

It didn't feel like that, though. Getting him all worked up was nice, and I loved the things he was doing to me, and then he was ready and I pushed myself in slowly, oh so slowly.

I didn't really get it until I saw his face. Contorted in what was half pain, half pleasure, he was crying out for more, crying out for me, and I couldn't hold myself, I pistoned in and out, somehow managing to keep my self from screaming, from coming, from crying with the horrible wrongness of it all. What was he doing? Why was he letting me do this to him?

When I did come, I landed on top of him, and little whimpers poured from me like my come from his body, except that this was the wrong analogy, I didn't want to think about that--

He held me until I was done, making soothing little noises. We'd never discussed it afterwards, but he'd never asked me again, either. I appriciated that.

I took my time thinking about it. It was possibly some kind of special Sentinel - Guide bond. It made all kinds of sense; Jim's trait wasn't genetic, so there was no sense in encouraging him to have children. A mate would've split the Sentinel's priorities too widely, between the tribe, the Guide, and the Sentinel's family.

The timing made sense, too; I've pretty much committed myself to Jim for life, because what else was I supposed to now? Not that I was complaining, mind you. I knew what I was doing when I said what I said, and I wasn't regretting it. Jim had to know that. He knew that even if I didn't want him - which I did - I won't run away now.

It worked the same for me. I didn't want to leave Jim, not for the world, and I loved him in every possible way. Which left the next question: What the hell was wrong with me?

I mean, here I am, as much intwined in Jim's life as possible, and for the most part, I love it, I want it, I've wanted it for years. And now he's giving me his body, that sexy, gorgeous body that I've always looked at just a bit more that was good for me, so what else is there for me to want?

His heart.

Alright, that's just ridiculous. The man shares a bed, a job and most of his free time with you - never mind the fact that he appearnatly switched sexual preferences just for your sake, because you've been looking, and he never ever noticed any other guys, and you think he doesn't feel anything for you?

He loves me; I know this much. He'd kill for me, he already had, and I think he might die for me. But it's not that kind of love.

He loves you. He has sex with you. What more love is there?

He isn't having sex with me. He's having sex with his Guide.

And that's pretty much where I got it. I was scared. I was scared that he'll come to his senses and realize what happened to him. What _I_ let happen to him. I let him get fucked by a man to fix something that was caused by the Sentinel thing. The fact that the man was me just made the whole thing worse.

And I couldn't let him know something was wrong, because once he did, he'll either get all guilty for supposedly forcing me into this or he'll realize what actually happened and be so fast out the door I won't even realize he came in. If I had any sense at all I would've stopped it earlier, before he had the chance to do this to himself, to let me do this to him. But now the only choice was to go forward.

It was actually helpful that I was going to the academy now. It gave me time to think, unnoticed by Jim. Studying was a breeze, compared to what I was used to, and the physical stuff wasn't that difficult; I've had a harder time working out before my first expedition. I was pretty much in shape anyway, what with all the running I've been doing in the last three years. So I didn't really need to spend much time on either part of learning to be a cop, but Jim was used to me being out in the library for hours. The only difference was that now I spent about half of that time in the gym.

I'd sit in some chair, hidden from view, and think. I was getting more and more aggitated with the sexual thing as time went on. It was even worse now that I knew why I was so scared, because let me tell you, my mind knows what it's doing when it hides stuff from me. Every day meant that I was one day closer to the day when Jim would finally realise what I was doing to him. Thank God he never asked me to fuck him again.

* * *

The last thing I needed in this situation was Naomi.

It was obvious from the start that we'd tell her about it. She liked Jim, despite his copness (is that even a word?), and God knows she wouldn't have trouble with me living with a guy; she liked guys enough herself, so why shouldn't I?

I wasn't worried about telling her, but I still preferred not to do it in the loft, and without Jim present. It was one of nature's laws; whenever Jim Ellison and my mother talk over anything even vaguely emotional, one or more of them was certain to be embarrassed.

So I told Jim I was taking her out to some vegeterian place I haven't managed to get him to check out with me, and he made a face and told me try not to let her talk me into "anything too weird," as he put it. I decided the wise thing to do would be not to ask him what he meant by it.

So I told her, and she looked at me blankly for a few minutes. Just as I was starting to ask myself if there was something wrong with her tofu burger, she asked, "And what is wrong with the whole thing?"

" _What?_ " She wasn't saying what I was thinking she was saying. She couldn't possibly know..

Naomi looked at me sadly. "I know when something's wrong with you, sweety. I'd just wish you'd tell me about it from the beggining."

"Nothing's wrong. We've been doing great," I said, as lightly as I could manage.

She gave me a searching look, and then her face were filled with horror. "You don't want this," she whispered.

"Of course I want this! Why wouldn't I want this?" I want this. I just wish it were real.

She cupped my chin and gave me an intense look. "Blair, I'm your mother. I can tell when you're upset. Whenever you mention his name you -- _cringe_. Someone in a happy relationship wouldn't do that."

I stared at her with mute fear. If she could see it, it was only a matter of time before Jim did. Of course, I knew that all along, but I hoped it would be later rather than sooner.

Instant concern crossed her face, mixed with rage. "If he's forcing you into this--"

" _No!_ " I looked at her, horrified. "Jim would never do something like that!"

"Honey, I know he's important to you, but you need to--"

"Look, Mom, I don't know what you're thinking, but everything is fine with me and Jim." I made sure I wasn't cringing at the mention of his name. I don't think I've been cringing, but I needed to be careful.

She tilted her head slightly. "I see. He's not forcing you. You're forcing yourself."

" _Mom_!"

"What is it? Did he tell you he couldn't manage without you? That you owe him somehow? That's abusive husband behaviour, Blair."

"He never said anything like that!" He never said anything at all. He just assumed everything was known to all participating parties.

Naomi sighed sadly. "Blair, would you just tell me what happened?"

I hesitated for just a bit too long to make any denial seem plausible. "It's not like that."

"What _is_ it like? Tell me."

I had to get this out of my mind or I'd go nuts. I have no other explanation to the fact that as soon as I opened my mouth I couldn't seem to get it shut. I told her about the way Jim used to sleep with me since Lash. About the first time, about my confusion, my uncertainty. I didn't want to tell her about my failed attempt at intercourse, but eventually that came out as well.

"But the point is, I'm just-- scared. I don't know what he's thinking. Hell, _he_ probably doesn't know what he's thinking - how the hell should I? He could've told me something before he started this whole mess. We could've straightened this out. He shouldn't have just come and--" My voice faltered.

"And raped you." The voice came from behind me, flat and emotinless. I turned to look behind me. Jim was standing there, his face completely blank. Oh, shit.

* * *

"Jim--" I started, and I have no idea what I was about to say, but it didn't matter. Jim turned and got out of there. I looked at my mother with fury. "See? That's exactly what I _didn't_ want to happen."

"If you didn't want this, you should have told Jim. You're only hurting him more."

"Fine. Think whatever you want." I sighed and got up. "I have to go talk to him."

I jogged outside. He was getting inside the truck as I came to him. "Jim, look, this came out all wrong. Would you just wait a second and let me explain?"

"Explain what?" He asked, his voice harsh. "I wanted this, you didn't. It didn't occur to you, by the way, that I might like to be told? I'm not a mind reader, Sandburg. You could have said something."

"See? That's exactly why I didn't talk to you. I knew you'd act like this."

"Like what?" Jim snarled.

"All guilty. Look, I know you're pissed off. I just--" I raked my hands through my hair. "I guess I was trying to find a good way to tell you. Only, there's no good way to say something like this."

His jaw was clamped down so hard it was a wonder words still came out. "Well, I got it. You don't want me. I don't need a fucking neon sign, Sandburg."

"What?" I stared at him for a second. "No, man, you got it all wrong. I mean, what's not to want?"

He shrugged. "Does it matter?"

"Yes, damn it, it does!" I hissed. "I want you, alright? I fucking _love_ you. This could've been the best thing in the world if it were for real." I shut myself up, just a second too late.

He was staring at me, angery and confused in equal measures. "Can I get a translation here, Sandburg?" he said, and I nearly breathed out a sigh of relief because the tired irritation in his voice meant he was at least going to listen to me. I knew that tone.

I took a deep breath. "Jim, when did this begin? I mean, when was the first time you felt the urge to jump my bones?"

He shrugged. "Not sure. I wasn't exactly looking at the calendar thinking 'Oh, I've been in love with Blair for three weeks now.'"

I rolled my eyes. "Well, think about it. The first time we actually touched in what might be considered a sexual way, it was a Sentinel thing. I'm not talking about the nudity thing, even. I mean, how many straight men sleep with their male roomates?"

Jim's jaw was twitching. "It seemed to come naturally to you."

"Jim, I've been in some pretty unconventional situations in my life even _before_ you came along. I take affection as I can get it. What was in it for you?"

He looked down, then said softly, "You. You were in it for me."

"See? You start sleeping with a man, then you start _sleeping_ with a man. If this isn't Sentinel-induced, it's a pretty fucked up mid-life crisis."

He leaned against the truck, arms crossed. "Aren't you supposed to be the one who wants nature to take it's course?"

I stared at him with amazement. "Jim, man, do you even realize what you're saying? I mean, you bitched when I made you take _medicins_ you weren't used to, and that was so you wouldn't get a fucking pneumonia. Now you think blowing another guy all of the sudden because of some goddamned territorial imperative is no big fukcing _deal_?" I took a deep breath. No use getting mad right now.

Jim looked thoughtful for a second, and said slowly, "I guess you can say that."

I closed my eyes. Alright, Sandburg, here it comes. Any minute now he's going to catch up with reality and kick your ass.

"But then again, I guess you can say any time I go after a woman it's my genes talking. Wanting to get passed on, that sort of thing." And then he smiled, a shy, sweet sort of smile. "And since I'm going to have to listen to them anyway... Well, I kinda like you."

Well, didn't _that_ just blow me off completely. I mean, the guy doesn't say much, but when he does, he fucking sweeps me off my feet every goddamned time.

His brow creased. "Unless you've got a problem with wanting a guy..."

I laughed. "Oh, for god's sake, Jim, can you imagine a child of Naomi Sandburg refusing someone for his _gender_?" I patted his arm. "C'mon, man. I'd hate Naomi to think I'd abandoned her with the check."

* * *

  



End file.
